Today I commuted on a bike for the first time since a car collided with me earlier this year…

I'm not prone to bike anxiety. Riding has been my primary mode of self transportation for the past 38 years (that is, since I learned to ride). In high school I accidentally ran a red light at a busy intersection and had a near miss. Years later a car cut me off and my front wheel lodged in the wheel well. I've lost control in gravel and cracked the side of my helmet on the ground. I've taken a corner too sharply while riding on ice and landed hard. Nothing serious, just mild biking mishaps, you know?

But back in March, I was riding home in the afternoon, about to make a turn, when a car caught me at about a 20° angle and put me down. I remember the second it happened, because the woman driving made an 'oh shit' kind of squeaking noise. But everything between there and being on the ground is missing. She stopped, someone else called the paramedics. I lay in the road for a second, then dragged my shit to the sidewalk and lay down because my back hurt so much I couldn't really function.

I was ok. Based on the injuries I sustained, I must have landed on my left arm and my butt. Some road rash, a broken (?) tail bone, some ass bruising, and bunch of pain in different parts of my back which took turns coming and going for a while. It wasn't fun, but I didn't hit my head, and I didn't turn a half second before and get t-boned. Even my bike was fine other than ripped bar tape.

It took me a while to recover. I mean, I went back to work after taking one day off. But I love my job, so that was fine (it's at a bike shop, duh). But my back hurt, and even now isn't quite the same as it was before.

I didn't ride for the rest of the March, or April, or most of May. The first ride I took was a two minute proof of concept ride for a bike I was working on at home. Honestly, I was nervous. Way more nervous than I expected. I looked behind me a lot more than I needed to. I didn't know what to make of it.

Eventually I finished a new build for my daughter, and she wanted to ride around. She meant it, too. We rode up hills, down hills, and she's entirely too fast on that fucking thing (though I did figure out that cafe racer style bars were making her unsteady — back to a flat). Those rides didn't bring up as much anxiety because I was more concerned with her than I was with myself. Again, she's all of a sudden too fast.

So eventually I got to this morning (first photo). I had six bikes to pick from and chose this two speed thing which I have posted here before. I didn't think about it a whole lot, it just seemed like the right bike. And off we went. It was… uneventful. I definitely carried the trauma with me, but not so much that I felt it every moment. I probably checked my six more than I would have before, but yeah, got to work, worked.

On the ride home I started thinking about why I picked this bike. It's the only frame I've ever purchased new. It is weird and can kind of do anything, which is why it's a 2 speed — because I don't know how to build it differently than the ways I already have. Part of my picking it was probably that I was out of shape and the idea of spinning out at 38/18 was enticing. High cadence means… high fitness? And punishing myself by climbing at 26/18, too.

But then it occurred to me that this bike really can't go very fast. It's basically a low geared single speed with a bailout gear. Maybe I picked it because I wouldn't be able to go very fast, or have to think about shifting. I don't know. I definitely don't want to repeat the experience of blacking out for a split second and ending up wincing on the asphalt.

I'm glad to be riding again. And tired and sweaty and out of shape (second photo). Maybe tomorrow I'll ride a different bike. Maybe my road bike? I guess I'll see how I feel.

Take care of yourselves out there.